


Impassive

by icarusforgotten



Category: KnB, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:45:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4652793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusforgotten/pseuds/icarusforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say actions speak louder than words.</p><p>Words can come through as vague, and empty. As intentionally deceptive.</p><p>But so can actions, Kise realises, as he stares into withdrawn eyes, their dark depths clutching at his heart, so viciously that he finds himself struggling with something as effortless as taking a breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impassive

They say actions speak louder than words.

Words can come through as vague, and empty. As intentionally deceptive.

But so can actions, Kise realises, as he stares into withdrawn eyes, their dark depths clutching at his heart, so viciously that he finds himself struggling with something as effortless as taking a breath.

 

When Kise first arrived at Teiko, he never held much expectation. His abilities were so naturally fine-tuned, and the people around him were far below reaching a quarter of his capabilities, that he no longer saw a reason to maintain an effort at anything. He wasn’t being rude – just honest. Kise was the kind of person that came around once in a generation. He realised this quite a long time ago. It wasn’t arrogance. It was fact.

It was painful.

He spent the first few weeks wandering aimlessly, polite disinterest plastered over his face. The people were nice, yes, but they still held the same look in their eyes, as everyone before them had. The look that sequestered incomprehensible frustrations and seething irritation. It wasn’t quite jealousy. It was infinitely worse.

Kise received nothing but respect. No one taunted him. No one threatened him.

No one challenged him.

It was unnerving.

Somehow, Kise couldn’t bring himself to care.

Except he could never convince himself enough that he didn’t.

 

It wasn’t until he was struck in the back of his head with a basketball that things started to change for Kise.

It wasn’t until he met Aomine that he started to see the meaning in things again.

 

Kise hungered for challenge – he craved it like it was a source of life.

And in a sense, it was.

He threw every fibre of his being into basketball – into playing _Aomine_.

Aomine gave him something to work for, a _goal_ to strive for. Aomine gave him something he had been seeking for years,

Aomine gave him joy.

He could see his appreciation for a strong opponent reflected in Aomine’s eyes. They had been steadily growing brighter with every game, every match, every one-on-one he had with Kise, to the point that Kise thought they would fill to the brim and overflow.

Yet it seemed that the brighter his eyes became, the more distantly they shined.

Aomine was strong. And his growth accelerated at a frightening speed.

He would fly across the court wish ferocious abandon, taking complete control of the game, from both his opponents and his teammates. His dunks and shots were like forces of nature, reckless and astonishing, leaving destruction in their wake. Over time, it had become somewhat of a routine. Somewhat mundane, and Aomine didn’t play with the same kind of energy as he used to.

Eventually, he started to lack the same fervour he once held for one-on-one games with Kise.

His eyes would cease filling to the near-brim with brightness. They began to dim, oh so very slowly, and one day the light seemed to be put out altogether.

And it frustrated Kise, frustrated him beyond anything he’d ever felt before, because he was throwing _everything_ he had into playing with Aomine, into desperately trying to convince him to stay. That he was worth staying for.

And for all his effort, he was presented with the receding shape of Aomine’s back.

Suddenly, Kise understood the tragedy of not being able to reach far enough.

 

By the time high school rolls around, Kise learns to dull the ache. He finds companionship, even friendship, amongst his new teammates at Kaijou. They don’t quite reach his level, but they are strong in their own respect. They work hard, struggle through, and persevere with unyielding dedication, no matter the task. They influence Kise to _try_. And it’s enough to keep him going.

Kise rebuilds himself.

It’s daunting and tiresome, but he manages. He’s different now, than what he was at Teiko. His skills, his level of dedication. His outlook on life. It’s not as crude as he remembers.

He’s different.

Yet he’s still the same.

He’s still _hoping_.

 

When he loses against Touou in the InterHigh, he feels everything come crashing down.

Just like the last time he faced Aomine, everything he threw into the game, into his plays, into their physical _discourse_ , was not remotely enough. It never had been, Kise thought hopelessly, and it never would be.

He can feel the _disappointment_ radiating from Aomine, and he refuses to look up at him after the game is over, because he’s so close but still so, so incredibly far, and Kise is afraid of what his eyes will hold.

So he stubbornly holds out, until the very last minute, until a hand reaches for him, and he once again makes the mistake of being so uselessly _hopeful_ that he’s left with nothing but regret when his eyes finally open.

Once again, Kise is left with the image of Aomine’s receding back.

This time, he seems to be so much further away.

Kise doesn’t know how much higher he can reach.

 

Without a doubt, Kise is thrilled to see a semblance of Aomine’s older self return after his loss to Seirin.

He’s happy. Really, he is.

Yet all he can feel is the pull of defeat when he watches Kagami celebrating with the rest of the rapidly growing Seirin.

 _He_ should have been the one to give Aomine back his light.

 _He_ wanted to be the one Aomine looked at with such _intensity_.

 

Kise finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Not just on his games, but in other various aspects of his life. He finds himself reliving the Touou-Seirin match, replaying again and again the moment the buzzer rang, and the look of unadulterated astonishment and disbelief on Aomine’s face.

He becomes sloppy.

Kasamatsu-senpai takes notice, and pulls Kise aside.

“ _Ryouta_ ,” he seethes, eyes hard. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you need to pull your head out of your _ass_ and start working for the _team_.”

It’s not unreasonable, Kise thinks, that Kasamatsu suspects that this is about his loss to Aomine, especially if he already seems to know that Kise is fighting an independent battle. He keeps quiet anyway, flashing a hollow smile, bows deeply his forgiveness to his senpai, and carries on.

His training becomes just as hollow as his smile, and to an extent, his life.

He feels burdened, and he wishes for nothing more than to abandon these memories, these feelings, these _fleeting_ _hopes_ , and just move forward.

Before he knows it, Kise becomes impassive, and he’s back to the way he was before Teiko.

 

After learning what Aomine did to Haizaki, Kise has a breakdown.

He lets everything out, in the dark corner just to the left of the locker rooms. He takes everything he’s been bottling up since the day he witnessed the light escaping Aomine’s eyes, and just _release_ it all, not caring who may stumble upon him.

It’s not until much later that Kise feels a presence watching him.

He looks up, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Yo.” His voice is strained with uncertainty.

“What do you want, Aominecchi?” Kise rubs at his eyes, trying to hide the evidence of his anguish, but after a moment he decides there’s really no point.

Aomine looks away, hand awkwardly scratching the back of his head. He lets out a gruff sigh, and pins Kise with a cold stare. “How’s your foot?” It’s barely a mumble.

Kise deliberates for a moment, watching the frustration grow on Aomine’s face with his passing silence. “It’s fine,” he finally says.

Aomine grunts, looking away.

Kise has nothing else to say, so he turns away, heading back to the Kaijou lockers. He nearly anticipates – _hopes_ – that Aomine will stop him, reach out to him before he disappears behind those doors.

Instead, he stands alone, hand pressed against the door, and listens to heavy footsteps growing fainter. They sound hurried.

Kise doesn’t look back. He doesn’t feel the need to.

 

His foot aches. The sky is dark, but clear. The rest of his team has gone home long ago, leaving Kise to change and shower at his own pace. He enjoys the quiet of solitude, and there’s a nice breeze against the back of his neck once he steps outside. If not for the dull ache in his foot – and his heart, Kise thinks, grimacing – then this would be a perfect evening.

Kise suppresses the next thought that is about to infect his mind; all his chronic hoping is nothing more than wasteful. And perfection is over-rated anyway. That is one thing he is painfully aware of.

Suddenly something sharp strikes the back of Kise’s head. It _stings damnit_ and Kise hisses, hand clamping over his skull.

“ _Oi!_ ” comes a wild growl from behind him.

Kise pivots sharply, pulsing with rage.

Standing just a few feet away beneath a glaring street lamp is Aomine, his hand filled with stones and pebbles. They clatter to the ground, and Aomine wipes his hand aggressively against the thigh of his shorts. And Kise doesn’t know why, he doesn’t _want_ to feel the way he does, but something within him leaps, nearly stutters, and he shuts his eyes against the moist heat blurring his vision.

“What the hell do you _want_ from me?” shouts Kise.

And in the blink of an eye Aomine is in front of him, grabbing the lapels of his sports jacket, shoving him roughly against the side of some building, and he leans in _close_. Kise can see the sweat beading down the angry crease of his brow, the wild flare of nostrils, and he gears up, ready to throw Aomine off.

He’s pulled from the wall and slammed right back into it, and before Kise can so much as regain his breath, Aomine’s head falls to his shoulder, and he can see the outline of his back quivering.

Kise raises a hand, tentatively. It hovers in the air, and he doesn’t know what he should do.

Against his better judgement, Kise gently probes his fingers at his former teammate’s shoulder, shifting his hand until he’s got his palm flat against his back, ignoring how Aomine stiffens almost instantly.

“Aominecchi,” he breathes, just barely above a whisper.

The grip on his jacket tightens. He feels the full weight of Aomine’s body pressed against him, and though it’s just a notch below bearable, it’s not uncomfortable.

Or unwanted.

“Why?” He breathes out, driving his forehead into Kise’s shoulder.

Kise winces. Even though he’s wearing a jacket, the bricks of the old building he is pressed up against are rough enough to give him a sharp stinging sensation when his shoulder scrapes against them from the force of Aomine’s head.

“A-Aominec –”

“ _Why_?” he says again, voice laced with frustration, and when his eyes rise up and meet with Kise’s they are hysterical. Kise shuts down. He’s never seen Aomine this vulnerable before. “Why did you just give up?” He’s never heard his voice be so . . . uncertain.  

Kise doesn’t know what to think about it, so he just brushes it off. “ _Eh_?? What’s gotten into you, Aominecchi? Were you asleep during the game? We won against Fukuda.”

“That’s not what I’m fucking talking about and you _know_ it. Don’t fuck with me, Kise!” His name escapes Aomine’s lips like a snarl.

“Then why don’t you enlighten me, oh great _Ace-sama_! Why don’t you tell me what’s so wrong with how I _play_?” Kise spits right back, shoving Aomine off, and he’s more than vicious, channelling years of pent-up regret.

Aomine’s fist connects with his face, and he’s on the ground. He never even anticipated it.

Kise touches the side of his face, gingerly. He can feel heat pooling where Aomine’s fist made contact, and just hopes that it won’t affect his ability to play in the next game. Or his modelling career, for that matter. He winces, pressing his fingers to the sore spot again. It hurts.

But it hurts even more in a place Aomine hasn’t hit him.

“You _assho_ –”

“Why are you so fucking impassive, _huh_?” Aomine roars. He pounces on Kise, straddling him, and grabs at his collar. Kise’s being shaken, savagely, and he can barely breathe with the way Aomine’s pressing into him. “Why do you play like it means _nothing_ to you?”

Those words hurt more than the back of his head slamming against the concrete. Kise feels _betrayed_. “ _You have no right to say that_!” he shrieks.

Aomine freezes. There’s something in his eyes, something _desperate_ , but it only lasts a fraction of the time it takes Kise to blink his frustrated tears away. Aomine pins Kise down with such a dead stare, it takes him a minute to get his lungs working again.

“This isn’t about me,” he snarls.

“This has _always_ been about you!” Kise knocks his hands away, pushing Aomine off balance. He falls down to a sitting position, face heating with embarrassment. Kise mimics him, sitting up. He groans, cradling the back of his head. He’s going to have a bruise there tomorrow, for sure.

“ _Tch_!”

“How _dare_ you tell me I play like it means nothing to me when you don’t even _care_ about playing seriously anymore?”

“It’s not the same –”

“ _Yes it is_!” His chest is heaving now, and he’s tying his damned best to keep his voice steady. “We used to have so much fun together. And then .  .  . what happened to you, Aominecchi?”

Aomine blinks.

A breeze rolls by, and Kise starts to shiver. It’s something of an impulse, but he crawls forward. Aomine lifts his face, and the light hits him just so. His eyes are bright. They are mournful, and distant, but they’re _shining_. There’s something in them that’s been missing for a long, long time.

 _Passion_.

“We used to be best friends,” Kise continues. “Why, Aominecchi . . ?”

“Shut up!” he says, but it’s weak, and even though Aomine ducks his head, Kise can still see the uncertain smile tugging gently at the corner of his mouth.

Without warning, Aomine stands up. He offers his hand to Kise. It takes a moment, and some awkward coaxing from Aomine’s end, but Kise finally takes it. He’s pulled to his feet, and he wobbles, in part from the thrashing he’d received earlier, but more so from the emotional roller coaster he’d just been put through.

He can’t help but stare at Aomine. There’s just something about him that looks . . . wholesome. It’s almost like they’d been thrown back into the past, and those last devastating moments of middle school never happened.

There’s a grin spreading across Aomine’s face, cocky and very much content. Almost as though he’d come across a revelation. And maybe he has, Kise thinks. Maybe losing to Seirin is just the wakeup call he needed.

But maybe, even if it was a miniscule contribution, Kise’s ascent to the same void Aomine entered all those months ago helped to push him towards some sort of self-realisation.

“What are you smiling about?” barks Aomine, face pulling into a frown.

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. Kise hasn’t felt this light in a long time. A very long time. It’s almost foreign. It leaves him feeling high.

“Better not be thinking anything stupid,” Aomine grumbles. “You’re facing Seirin next.”

The threat of his next game is far beyond real, and he should really be focusing on that, but he can’t help to be drunk off whatever is happening before him. Aomine’s words were meant to sober him, but all they accomplish is give Kise another reason to feel giddy.

“Dumbass,” says Aomine. But it’s with this serene fondness. He turns away, craning his neck to indicate for Kise to follow.

And Kise does.

**Author's Note:**

> there will be a sequel


End file.
